The Prisoner
by Mistress Elysia
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple escort mission - take the prisoner to be tried for his crimes, no questions asked... until Ellie Swift realises he might not be the only one being held against their will. Rated M for language, violence and adult content
1. Chapter 1

_Since my laptop died with Chapter 38 of WDR trapped firmly inside it, I've been a little bit miffed (to put it lightly) and supremely demotivated... rather than dwell in the doldrums, however, I've decided to write a little piece of original D&D fiction I've been toying around with for a while in my head – hopefully, writing this will help me overcome my annoyance at having to re-write an entire battle scene!_

_Where WDR is more epic in scope, The Prisoner is a smaller setting – it is also (and will continue to be) quite (okay, decidedly!) adult in nature, and so reader discretion is definitely advised._

_All characters in the Prisoner belong to Mistress Elysia (me!) - all settings (Faerun) and concept races belong to Wizards of the Coast._

Chapter One

Sinking into a sea of molten red, the sun set slowly over the vast, sparkling deeps of the Dragonmere, the dim, crimson light it emanated an indication to all who dwelt within its walls that soon it would be time for the city of Suzail to slumber once again.

As the principle city of Cormyr, Suzail prided itself in being ordered, law abiding and chivalrous... at least upon the surface. Dig deeper, however, and as with anywhere and everywhere, something that lay long and festering would soon be uncovered, like a scabbed wound thought healthy left too long to abscess and putrify.

Raising her head to watch pink tinged clouds drift lazily along the horizon, the mackerel-skin patterns they painted upon the sky a possible indication for later rain, Ellie propped her chin in one hand, lost in thought.

_To be a bird... To see what lay beyond that horizon..._

"Ellie; your throw."

Pulled violently from her musings and brought back to reality with a rattling clatter, the rogue shook her head slightly and took the roughly carven tumbler that had been thrust her way in one hand; shaking it three times for luck, she raised her top lip in a slight sneer as she released the dice, waiting to see if Mask still favoured her in games of chance.

A triple four.

"How in all the nine hells do you do that?" Bran snorted in annoyance, throwing down his tankard of ale, the golden liquid slopping down its sides to stain the top of the ancient table they were sat at a dark, sticky brown. "That's the fourth time you've beaten our throws!"

Grinning, Bear downed the last dregs of his pint and wiped a massive, grubby hand across his thickly bearded chin. "Ah, Bran; it's all in the wrist!" He winked in what he thought was a lascivious way at the rogue sat across the table from him. "Ain't it so, Swift?"

Raising an eyebrow, Ellie shrugged shoulders too thin and sinewy to be considered entirely comely. "I don't know, Bear... when it comes to wrist movements, I imagine you're the guy to ask."

At her good natured jibe, the barbarian grinned. "These wrists might have seen enough action, lass, but this tongue – that's seen more. Maybe ye should stop by one day and see what it has to offer?"

Chortling a little into what remained of his drink as Ellie desperately tried to think of a good rejoiner, Bran raised both his eyebrows, his dark, rat-like eyes glinting in amusement. "Seems like something's caught her tongue, Bear! Maybe she needs yours as a spare?"

To this, Bear said nothing and just waggled his offending appendage at her through a mouthful of broken, crooked teeth.

"Are you upsetting my girl again?" a soft yet dangerous voice suddenly asked, seemingly coming from nowhere. Turning their heads, both men just grinned.

"Aww, Caelan, we're just playin'" Bran answered, holding up the dice cup to the half elf who had just joined them. "She keeps winnin' and winnin' – she deserves it!"

Setting a tray of drinks on the table, Caelan cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Ellie... are you relieving these good men of their hard earned gold?"

Unable to do anything but snort in amused incredulity, the rogue shook her head. "Hard earned? Their ill-gotten gains?" She grinned. "In that case, yes; I am."

Giving her a sly smile back, the half elven assassin nodded. "Good girl..."

Reaching forward for a fresh pint, Bear rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue disdainfully. "Yer onna losin' streak there, Bran – y'know Caelan'll always be sidin' with the one that warms 'is furs..."

Taking a pull of his own ale, Caelan suddenly narrowed his cold, blue eyes at the barbarian. "I don't think I like your implication, Ragnar..."

Noticing a distinct drop in temperature, Bran and Ellie shared a slightly apprehensive look as Bear sat up and visibly bristled at Caelan's quiet threat.

"I think it's probably better if we all just forget the silly game and think about tonight, yes?" the rogue broke in, reaching for her own drink and laying a placating hand upon the assassin's knee in a way their companions could not see. "When do we have to meet Meren?"

Feeling her hand upon his leg, Caelan glanced towards her, a ghost of a smile dancing crookedly upon his lips. "Once the sun has set. We collect our payload and then make our way to the docks; there we will find a ship waiting that will take us to Pros. From there, we make our way along the coast to Westgate and hand him over. A simple job."

Frowning, Bran took another swallow of his beer. "Meren give any more indication as to what this poor sod done? Why's he need us to escort 'im across? Why not send 'im with one of the Purples?"

Caelan shook his head. "Lord Meren has decided to keep his counsel to himself... and for the amount of gold that has been promised to us for a simple escort job, I would say the details are irrelevant." He smiled knowingly as he took another sip from his drink. "And I would think it was obvious why he wouldn't want to send him with one of the Purple Knights... they would want to try him for his crimes here, and that is exactly what Lord Meren does _not_ want."

Snorting into his tankard, Bear shrugged. "I don't care what ee's done; easiest spot o' gold I ever did earn, so I ain't complainin'."

At this, Caelan inclined his head graciously to the much larger man. "My sentiments exactly."

"But what if he's innocent?" Ellie asked, without thinking.

Offering her a slightly withering look, the half elf set his drink down carefully. "Whether he is innocent or not is not our problem, Elliana, and you would do good to remember that. A misplaced sense of justice is not what Meren has hired; discretion and confidence that his wishes will be carried out _is_."

Glancing a little shamefacedly at the floor, Ellie nodded meekly. "Yes, Caelan."

The assassin then looked up to the two other men. "This goes for you both, too. This... prisoner is worth a lot of money to us; all we have to do is deliver him to Lord Meren's associates in Westgate. Nothing more." He then took his glass and drained it as he glanced out of the grimy window towards the dying sun. "We don't have long. I shall meet you by Lord Meren's estate in an hour." He then raised his eyebrow in an unspoken question at the ranger. "Ellie?"

Smirking to themselves, the Bear and Bran said nothing as the rogue stood up, picked up her bow and followed the assassin out of the bar.

o0o

In what felt like a matter of minutes after tumbling into a rented bed together, Caelan rolled off Ellie's naked form sweating and mumbling something in elven at her, leaving him sated, but her feeling largely unsatisfied. Still, he was a marked improvement upon her previous lovers, and anyway, as her mother had always told her, he was the one that counted; women were merely vessels, and any kind of pleasure you could derive from any such encounter was just a bonus, and whilst her encounters with the half elf weren't exactly earth shattering, he wasn't entirely blind to her needs either, unlike some of her past engagements.

Sitting up, she shook her auburn hair from her face as she felt the slightly unpleasant sensation of his seed trickle from her down one white thigh; glancing around to look down at him, he ran a hand through his long dark hair and looked up at her, his gaze lingering over her naked breasts as a lazy, covetous smile curled at the edges of his thin lips.

"Love... lie down. We don't have to go anywhere yet. It might be a while before we get to lie together again..." He quirked an eyebrow in what he thought was an alluring manner; Ellie, however, just thought it made him look vaguely confused.

"I will in a moment," she replied, smiling at him in a way that she hoped didn't betray her inner conflict. "I want to go and clean up. I'll be back in a moment."

Before he could comment, she stood up, pulled on her now-rumpled breeches and tunic, padded her way over to the door and made her way down the corridor towards the bathroom located at the end of the hallway. Wrinkling her nose at the slightly sour smell that emanated from the room, Ellie entered, locked the door and proceeded with her ritual cleansing, trying all the while to shake the nagging feeling that this wasn't the way things should be. Once completed, she glanced up to the cracked mirror that hung above a rust stained sink and regarded herself: wide, green eyes, inherited from her mother; ever so slightly pointed ears, evidence of a distant elven heritage from a father she had never known; reddened, bruised lips from the attentions of a lover she no longer truly care for. All of a sudden, she felt a crushing wave of self loathing and disappointment so intense she found herself gasping for breath; when had this happened? There had been a time when all she craved had been Caelan's attention; when his touch had inflamed her to the very core... now, as she washed away all trace of his intrusion from her body, she felt nothing but a vague sense of revulsion and shame.

Had she ever loved him? Or had he been just another infatuation? He seemed to love her... since he had claimed her as his own, a good six months ago, he had – as far as she knew, anyway – given up upon casual dalliances and whoring; he spoke nicely to her, brought her gifts, praised her abilities to the point where he had allowed her to join his merry little band of cut-throats and reprobates as an archer - not bad for a Luskan-born gutter rat and daughter of a copper-a-trick whore, she thought bitterly as she cupped her hands and plunged them into the tepid water that ran from a leaky tap, splashing her face in an attempt at cleansing away her doubts, chastising herself for wallowing in self pity when she should be grateful to have a man that seemingly cared for her.

Sighing to herself, she pulled her breeches back on and ran her damp hands through hair that was thick and red; a colour that suited the whore she had become.

Mother would be so proud...

o0o

Leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a gnarled tree located just outside the grounds of a large house, Bran and the Bear waited in shadow. By their reckoning, the hour Caelan had afforded them was nearly up; they had left the tavern with time to spare, for it did not do to upset the assassin, lest you woke up with a dagger between your ribs... you just had to ask poor Mokar about that.

If you could find a cleric willing to speak to his spirit, that was.

"Is he going to be late? He's not going to be late, is he?" Bran asked for the ninth time, causing Bear to roll his eyes.

"Ee won't be late," the barbarian answered a little testily. "Now shut up!"

"Maybe he ain't finished bangin' Ellie?" the shorter man leered, his lips pulling back to show elongated, rodent-like teeth. "I bet she goes like a nymph with a good dose o' the springtime fever, given half the chance... One day, I'll find out, you know."

"You wanna watch what yer tongue says, Bran," Bear answered with a snort. "If Caelan finds ye lustin' after his wench, you'll find a dagger in you, not your dagger in 'er, if y'get me meanin'"

"Never say never, me old mate!" Bran cackled. "She might be grateful for the change."

"And what makes y'think she'd turn to a pox-ridden cretin like you?" the barbarian countered with no small measure of amusement.

"And why not? Some women like a man who's good with his fingers..." As if to reinforce his point, the smaller man waggled his long, spidery digits, causing them to glow briefly.

"Stop that!" Bear snapped, cuffing Bran roughly around the back of his head. "We're supposed to be _hidin'_, yer damn fool hedge wizard!" The barbarian then folded his brawny, scarred arms over his chest. "Anyways, any woman who knows what's good fer 'er would steer clear o' the likes o' you and come runnin' to the arm's o' the Bear..."

"Runnin' to the arms of the _Bear_?!" Bran smirked. "Oh, do please continue; I do so enjoy a good laugh... 'Ave you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, Ragnar? 'Cos if you ain't, it might 'ave passed you by that you look like a scarred sack o' shit tied up with ugly string, mate."

"Rich comin' from a scrawny, rat-faced streak o' piss like ye," Bear bantered back, a grin now plastered across his face. "Anyway... she don't interest me. Too bony by far, aye?" He made a lewd gesture with both his hands to accentuate his point. "Not even a handful."

"There's some that say any more than a handful is just a waste, Bear..."

"Yeah? Well, yer know what I thinks o' the likes o' them?" The barbarian grinned. "They ain't ever 'ad more'n a handful, so they ain't to know!"

At his own witticism, the Bear laughed before Bran nudged him swiftly in the ribs.

"Oi, I'd be shuttin' up, if I were you..." the wizard said quietly as he gestured to a pair of figures walking towards them. "'Cos if I ain't mistaken, that's Caelan and 'is wench now."

Looking over to where Bran was gesturing, the barbarian straightened himself up and cleared his throat, before making his way to meet the assassin half way across the tidy clearing in front of the mansion.

"So... you are here after all," Caelan said by way of greeting, his tone curiously flat as the Bear and Bran finally stood before him.

"Yeah," the barbarian answered. "We was standing by that old tre-"

"I know!" interrupted the assassin. "I – and quite possibly the rest of the city – could see you! Honestly; did you think an old tree was enough of a disguise to hide the likes of _you_?"

Glowering slightly, Bear exchanged a look with an equally disgruntled looking Bran, but said nothing.

Rolling his eyes briefly, Caelan then fixed his attention upon the mansion in front of them; as he watched, the iron-wrought gates that heralded the entrance to the expansive driveway in front of it opened, and from within came a large, plain yet expensive looking carriage, drawn by two well-bred horses.

"Don't say anything," the assassin almost sneered at all three of them as the carriage drew nearer. "Let me speak. Do I make myself clear?"

At this, the barbarian, wizard and rogue simply nodded dumbly.

o0o

Climbing aboard the carriage, Ellie was struck by just how sparse is was inside; the dark, luxuriously opaque velvet curtains that hung at the windows that had promised opulence actually hid nothing more than a wooden shell with two benches inside it, facing one another. One bench was unoccupied - upon the other sat a man dressed in plain black and next to him, a hooded figure; upon closer inspection, the rogue noticed that a pair of heavily wrought manacles encircled the figure's wrists, effectively strapping him to the bench, meaning that no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to stand up.

Sitting down in between Caelan and Bran, she wondered for a split second how Ragnar was going to fit inside – he was not called the Bear for nothing – until he climbed inside awkwardly, hunkered down and sat cross legged upon the floor.

Raising a disdainful eyebrow at them as they finally settled, the man in black opposite then rapped smartly upon the roof of the carriage, and with a jolt and the crunch of hooves upon gravel, they were off.

"I trust Lord Meren has appraised you of the finer details of this endeavour?" the man finally hissed after they had been travelling for a short while, his soft, breathy voice reminding Ellie a little uncomfortably of a rather high-toned snake.

Nodding, Caelan sprawled back slightly, as if to emphasise his confidence. "Yes, he has. I take it you have our passage secured... and our gold?"

Nodding, the man handed over a small yet heavy purse. "As agreed. Half now, half when the criminal is delivered to Lord Meren's associates in Westgate." He then produced a key and unshackled the heavy looking chain that led from his prisoner's manacles to a ring set in the floor of the carriage. "My advice is not to let him out of your sight."

"I wasn't planning on it," Caelan replied, inclining his head as he accepted the proffered chain.

"What crime has he committed?" Ellie all of a sudden asked, regarding the chain a little distastefully.

Narrowing his eyes, the man in black offered the rogue a shrewd look. "That is something you need not concern yourself with, my dear." he then turned his attention to the assassin. "I trust you have picked the best for this assignment?"

Shooting Ellie a furious look, the assassin nodded curtly. "Forgive my comrade's impertinent question; she is forever curious, but I assure you, she is competent." He gave the man in front of him a knowing look. "She is from Luskan, after all."

"I... see," the man in black answered, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow before lapsing into silence again as the carriage rattled along narrow roads at full speed towards the docks, which soon made their presence plain as the scent of salt, fish and old mud assailed their nostrils.

Feeling the carriage finally grind to a halt, Ellie glanced at Caelan, all of a sudden feeling a little nervous, but the half elven assassin offered her no comfort as the meagre, dim light that filtered through the cracks in the curtains emphasised the shadows around his eyes, making his already pale face look hollow and almost cadaverous in nature.

After exchanging a look with their unnamed contact, Caelan nodded to Bran, indicating that he should open the door to the carriage; once his wish was fulfilled and the wizard and barbarian were waiting outside, he gathered up the chain that had been presented to him earlier, and without a further word, stepped through the carriage door with the prisoner in tow, followed closely by a very apprehensive rogue.

Stepping down from the carriage, Ellie took a good lungful of the salty sea air in an attempt to calm her suddenly fractured nerves. Almost as soon as she did so, she heard the crack of a whip and the jingle of a harness as the carriage immediately moved off, leaving the four of them plus their cloaked guest standing by an almost deserted quayside. Finding the docks so quiet was something the rogue found eerily disturbing; having been born and raised in Luskan, she was used to the dockside being busy at all times of the day, no matter what the weather, and to be in a port that wasn't bustling with drunken sailors, unscrupulous merchants and whores peddling their wares at all times was something she was just not used to.

Regarding each of her comrades in turn, Ellie finally turned her attention to the convict that stood by the assassin, his cowled head bowed, his face deep in shadow. Studying him for a moment, she could see that he was not tall, that much was for sure, and now he was standing, she could see that his general build was slender, leading her to believe that he was possibly elven in heritage.

Noticing her scrutiny, Caelan scowled.

"Come on; we're booked passage on a ship that sails very soon. We have little time to waste."

Jerking on the criminal's chain a little more roughly than was possibly necessary, the half elven assassin then led them away.

o0o

Boarding a swift-looking schooner, the small band of mercenaries was led through low-ceilinged cabins lit by swaying oil lamps by a stoop shouldered, sallow-looking first mate. Clambering down a particularly steep set of wooden stairs as they descended into the bowels of the vessel, even Ellie, with her guild-honed reflexes, had to place both hands on either wall to stop herself from pitching forwards as the schooner rolled slightly with the waves that lapped almost seductively along its sides, causing the lamps to flicker and sputter.

It was Ragnar the Bear who now led the prisoner; stumbling as the boat pitched a little, the barbarian frowned as the cloaked figure nimbly managed to keep his feet, and so to mask his own embarrassment, Bear suddenly and viciously jerked the chain he was holding, forcing the prisoner to fall forwards on to his knees.

Sighing audibly, the cowled convict stood up, but said nothing.

"Don't 'ee talk?" Bear grumbled, jangling the chain once more, looking unnerved.

"He's not here to talk," Caelan replied bluntly as the first mate of the Escher produced a large bunch of keys and opened a solid oak door, in to which a small, barred window was set. Pushing the prisoner inside, the first mate then removed the key from the bunch and handed it to the assassin.

"Cap'n says only you, him and me know of this, and that is the way it stays. The crew knows we've got passengers - that's you four – but him," he jerked his head towards the cloaked figure, "they don't know about. And that makes him _your_ responsibility, not ours. You feeds him, you keep him clean, you keep him out of sight, otherwise he goes overboard – agreement or not." For some inexplicable reason, the first mate glanced nervously around himself before continuing. "Although we've not been paid in full, we don't care; if this goes wrong, there won't be any evidence to worry about, bags of gold owed or no."

With that sentiment in mind, he nodded curtly to Caelan and left, leaving Bran, Bear and Ellie frowning slightly.

Watching the first mate climb the stairs back to the main part of the ship, Bran was the first one to look back to regard the assassin.

"What in the bleedin' hells was he goin' on about, Caelan?" He gestured to the cowled figure who was now stood passively in the cabin beyond. "Why's he afraid of him?"

Quirking a dark brow, the half elf allowed his attention to slide from his companions and towards the prisoner.

"I think it's about time they knew, don't you?" Caelan asked silkily, stepping towards the door, unsheathing his longsword as he did so. "Why there is all this secrecy..."

Turning his cowled head towards the assassin, the prisoner again said nothing.

"Come now; there is no need to be shy," Caelan smirked, his tone dangerously pleasant. "They'll find out soon enough." The half elf then raised his sword so that the very tip of it caught upon the edge of the prisoner's cowl, and raised it slightly. "Or should I do it for you?"

Jerking his head back so that his cowl slipped from the edge of the assassin's blade, the convict nevertheless remained silent.

"Why doesn't he speak?" Ellie almost whispered, now secretly wishing that the half elf would stop tormenting the cloaked figure with such relish, no matter how heinous his crimes turned out to be.

"Nothing more than a misplaced sense of pride, perhaps" the assassin sneered, raising his sword to once again tease the edge of the criminal's cowl; this time, however, the prisoner raised his gloved, chained hands and batted the blade away, causing Bear to quickly unholster the greataxe he wore strapped to his back and Bran to grasp and raise a thin, exquisitely carven bone wand.

Rather than cower from them, however, the prisoner squared his shoulders, grasped the front of his cowl and lowered it slowly, revealing a cascade of silvery-white hair caught back in a warrior's tail and midnight-black skin in which was set a crimson eye that glowed like a ruby-hued ember, whilst his other eye was hidden by an unadorned black leather patch.

A drow.

Feeling her heart jolt suddenly in her chest, Ellie took an unconscious step backwards as Bear adjusted the grip upon his greataxe and Bran visibly paled.

"Oh, shitty hells, Caelan... what in Mask's name have you got us involved in this time?" the wizard breathed as the dark elf allowed his cloak to fall completely to the wooden floor, revealing the lean, well muscled physique that only a seasoned fighter could possess.

"Nothing we cannot handle," the assassin replied softly, his cold gaze transfixed almost hatefully upon the dark elf stood before them. He then looked to each of his comrades in turn. "Now you might have an inkling as to why Lord Meren required a certain measure of secrecy; a dark elf within Cormyr walls? It simply wouldn't be tolerated. All you have to remember is that despite his race and their rather... unsavoury reputation, this is nothing more than a simple escort mission. Nothing more – nothing less."

Swallowing hard, Ellie nodded, whilst regarding the drow owlishly, all the while thinking the same thing over and over again within the safe confines of her mind:

_A simple escort mission indeed..._


	2. Chapter 2

_And the meandering begins... :p One day, I might just be able to sit down and write something where I don't feel the need to write reams and reams of character exposition! _

_Until that day, however... (grins sheepishly)_

Chapter Two

Closing the heavy wooden door and locking it securely behind them, Caelan closed his eyes momentarily and ran a hand through his dark hair before spending a moment instructing Bear to watch the door as if his life depended on it and stalking away with Ellie and Bran in tow.

Glowering slightly that he had been the one picked to take the first watch with little else to do but sit by the door and stare at the opposite wall, the barbarian peered into the now darkened brig and watched briefly as their drow prisoner stooped down to pick up his weather-stained cloak from the floor and drape it once again about his obsidian shoulders before settling himself silently in the corner of his prison. Sighing and running a hand over his bald pate, Bear then hunkered down upon the floor, slung his greataxe over his knees, took the corner of his tunic in one hand and began to clean the bladed, intricately engraved head of his weapon in an attempt to stave off the inevitable boredom he knew he would be experiencing before long, given the current entertainment options.

It only took a short while for the Northman to grow tired of his polishing; for all his laggardly attitude towards his own personal hygiene, he kept his weapon scrupulously clean at all times, his personal philosophy being that whilst a dirty tunic had never killed anyone, a badly maintained weapon most certainly had. Propping his axe up almost lovingly before him against a thick baulk of timber that served as a main supporting strut for one of the schooner's masts, Bear glanced up at the barred door wearily, folded his arms over his chest, slouched down against the curved wall of the ship and yawned mightily, the ale he had consumed earlier on all of a sudden making him feel decidedly sleepy.

Hearing the distant cry of the men above board, the barbarian felt the ship lurch forwards suddenly; opening one eye, Bear shifted his weight slightly in an attempt to make himself slightly more comfortable and tried to force himself to stay awake as he wondered exactly what he was going to do with all the gold this job would bring him.

o0o

Testing one of the flimsy-looking rope hammocks that hung like huge webs from the ceiling of their sparse cabin, Ellie scrambled agilely up, quickly settling herself upon her side and forced herself to stifle a giggle as Bran managed to flip himself out of his own rope bed for a third time.

"For Mask's sake..." the wizard muttered under his breath, picking himself up from the floor yet again before trying to flatten out the hammock with one hand and steady himself against the ship's planked hull with another. "Exactly how's any bugger supposed to actually get into one of these, eh?"

"Quite easily, actually," Caelan sneered in response, as he settled himself easily within the hempen sanctuary of his own makeshift bed. "It really is just a case of mind over matter."

Muttering under his breath, Bran offered the assassin a poisonous look. "Easy fer you to say..."

Leaning over the edge of her hammock, all the while being careful not to tip herself out, Ellie grinned down at the half elf who had stationed himself beneath her. "Five gold says he ends up sleeping on the floor."

Smiling slyly back up at her, Caelan winked. "Okay... you're on."

Offering them both a withering look, the wizard stood up, planting both his hands upon his hips, the stance sharply reminding the rogue of an old Luskan fishwife.

"It's not funny!" the wizard whined petulantly. "These thing's are a bugger to get into!" He waggled one finger at Ellie. "You'll be sorry if I fall out and break me neck halfway through the night..."

Snorting, Caelan shook his head. "Please believe me when I say 'no we wouldn't', Bran." The assassin then sat up, his demeanour all of a sudden serious. "By Meren's estimation, this crossing should take about four days; after that, about two tendays give or take to make it to Westgate. In the meantime, we need to set up a rota – we can't leave our dear guest unwatched."

"So we have to watch him at all times?" Ellie asked. "Why? He's locked up pretty securely..."

"And what happens if someone wanders down there and sees him? You know the superstitions attached to anything dark elven – and sailors are more superstitious than most. He'd be over the side before you could say 'huge bounty on his head; want a share?'; a fate, I am afraid to say, that may very well apply to us as well, since we've brought him on board. Therefore, not only do we need to make sure he says _in_, but also that the crew stays _out_." Caelan gave both his companions a significant look. "This is a delicate operation worth a vast amount of money to us all. Usually, I don't deal in bounties... but this one I deemed worth it, and therefore I have no intention of messing it up. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Sharing a small, quick glance, both Ellie and Bran simply nodded by way of reply.

"Good," the assassin continued in a satisfied tone of voice. "Bran; you will relieve Ragnar. I will then relieve you. After that, Ellie will relieve me, and after that we start again."

"Oh, me next? Why? I'm knackered!" Bran continued to complain, once again beginning to fight with his hammock. "I can't even get into this bastard bed... soon as I get comfortable, I'm going to have to get back up again!"

Settling back, Caelan folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes with a decidedly smug smile. "Such is life, Bran... such is life."

o0o

It didn't take long for Ellie to drop off to sleep; whilst it hadn't been a particularly trying day, it had been a long one, and along with the gentle rocking of the ship as they made their way out of Suzail's natural harbour, she soon found herself being lulled into the welcoming arms of slumber.

Awakening to the sound of someone whispering at her from the darkness and the caress of roughened fingertips against her cheek, she awoke abruptly, for a split second experiencing that exquisite moment of disorientation as she tried to figure out exactly where she was and why she had been roused whilst she unconsciously reached for her ankle, where, as a gutter rat, she had always strapped a hidden knife. Shaking her head to chase away the last, heavy traces of slumber from her sleep-fogged mind, she finally focused upon the figure of Caelan, who was smiling at her almost gently as he allowed his fingers to trail along her cheekbones and down the curve of her neck.

"Wake up, lokte," the assassin murmured, brushing a wayward lock of amber hair from her face. "I am afraid it is time for your part of our vigil."

Smiling a little, Ellie hauled herself upright, untangled herself from the rough blanket that covered her and carefully lowered herself from her hammock.

"How's it been?" she asked, picking up the tunic she had discarded earlier when she had felt her eyelids grow heavy and pulled it over her head. muffling her voice briefly.

"Boring," Caelan snorted. He held out something rectangular. "You might want this."

Frowning slightly, the rogue reached out and took what he offered; realising it was a book, she read the faded, flaked gold lettering that adorned its cracked spine. "A History of Waterdeep." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so..."

"Believe me, it's better than sitting down there, staring at the wall."

"The drow not giving us much trouble?"

The assassin shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I wasn't really expecting him to, to be honest – not here. It might be a different case once we're in the wilderness-"

"The wilderness?" Ellie asked all of a sudden, looking concerned.

Grinning Caelan nodded. "We can't exactly take him along the main road, my dear. I fully expect we'll be travelling by roads seldom trodden."

Rolling her eyes, Ellie wrapped her arms around herself and let out a low groan, which in turn made the half elf chuckle.

"I know you don't like those roads very much, Ellie, but in this case, we have little choice." He offered her a rare, genuine smile. "We're going to make a lot of money out of this; once we're done, we'll probably have enough to be able to go away for a while. We could go to Amn, or maybe Calimshan." The assassin then raised a hand and caught her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Find adventure of a different kind."

Smiling in what she hoped was a grateful way, the rogue tried to ignore the slight sinking feeling she felt deep within her stomach at his words and nodded. "Yes; that would be nice."

Caelan then leant in and kissed her lightly. "It would indeed." Pulling back, he glanced around at the sleeping forms of the wizard and the barbarian. "We'd have to dump those two, of course... but until then, let us keep our minds upon our current mission." Letting go of her chin, the assassin straightened up. "And with that in mind... Bear will relieve you in a few hour's time. If you have any problems, just holler. Do you have any questions?"

Shaking her head, Ellie indicated that she didn't and, after retrieving a book and a small box of charcoal from her own backpack, the rogue left the small cabin and wandered along the narrow gangway to the brig, trying not to think about what might come to pass once this particular job was over.

o0o

Standing in front of the pitted yet stout door to their makeshift dungeon, Ellie clutched her books to her chest and considered the small, barred window was was set high in its upper half with an even mixture of trepidation and interest.

She had always been one for curiosity; no matter how many times she had found herself in trouble for indulging - whether it was the time she got her head stuck in a tree stump to the occasion when she accidentally turned herself green after stealing some pretty yet rather volatile alchemical components from the local apothecary - and so she was not surprised to find a part of her yearning to take a glimpse inside the dimly lit room and see exactly what the strange dark elf incarcerated inside was up to. Chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, she knew it was futile; the longer she sat there, no matter how hard she tried to entertain herself, her inquisitive side would keep nagging her until she at least took a peek and so, feeling for some bizarre reason a little apprehensive, she set her books upon the floor, tucked her hair behind her ears and, standing upon the tips of her toes, peered cautiously into the brig.

At first, she saw nothing; the light from the oil lamp swaying over head did not penetrate the shadows that collected within the small prison, and so she narrowed her eyes, squinting a little to see if she could discern anything at all. Finally, shapes began to coalesce from the gloom: the faint outline of a bucket; the dull, looping coil of a chain; the black upon black hint of what looked like a booted foot. Focusing upon this foot, she then carefully followed it upwards, trying to make out the silhouette of the dark elf, but it was, quite curiously, incredibly difficult, and the rogue found herself swallowing hard as she recalled the stories from her childhood that the drow could make themselves invisible at will, and in some cases, transform themselves into the very shadows they inhabited, causing her heart to flutter a little.

Suddenly, something shifted in the murk ahead, causing Ellie to take an involuntary step away from the door. Grinning to herself and shaking her head, she chastised herself for such a silly move; after all, exactly what was the drow going to do to her? He was hardly going to leap out of the shadows and begin torturing her for his own sadistic pleasure, regardless of what tales the old men who used to sit outside the taverns her mother used to work loved to spin for the assembled crowd of street urchins that would gather before them to listen in awe to their past adventures said. With this reasoning in mind, she stepped back to the door and peered once again into the room; this time, however, there was no mistaking where the dark elf sat, since he had unfurled himself from the corner where he had been residing and was now sat upon the thin bench directly opposite the door, regarding the barred portal with a detached sense of interest with one, glittering crimson eye.

Upon reflection later, what probably disturbed her the most wasn't the way the drow had managed to move from the corner to the bench with out once rattling his chains; there hadn't even been a hint of a soft chink of metal against metal in the scant few moments she had given him before glancing back into the room, lending weight to the rumour that the dark elves themselves were creatures solely comprised of shadow rather than flesh and blood, but rather the way he calmly watched her as she peered back into the room for a mere moment, deliberately catching her eye and holding it for a moment before she pulled back and settled herself, her heart all of a sudden quickening in her chest, upon the floor outside the door.

Usually, the loquacious rogue would have attempted to spark up a conversation out of sheer nerves – a habit that Caelan had tried to squash out of her over recent months, reminding her sternly that marks were marks, not people to sit and chat with – but there was something in that single red eye... not a malevolence, but more of a simple, almost amused curiosity that meant the nervous greeting she was about to afford him died upon her lips immediately.

Simply put, his attitude was not one of a man condemned to face the rather infamous and, indeed, rather terminal, brand of Dragon Coast justice in the near future.

Now sitting cross-legged upon the floor, Ellie opened the book Caelan had given her and ran her eye down the first page. Shaking her head in a bemused fashion, she flicked through more of the thin, neatly printed pages before setting the book down; even if she had been interested in the subject material, she couldn't read half the words – another thing that Caelan had tried to change about her, but had largely failed, mainly due to her own flitting attention span. At first, he had found her attempts to distract him from his teachings amusing – and largely gratifying – but after a while, he had grown weary of it all, not understanding that the rogue had little interest in the printed word, and it had ultimately ended up in their first proper argument, leaving Ellie with a black eye and Caelan with bruised knuckles and the book they had been reading together torn in two, its pages littering the floor like petals from a dying rose.

Pursing her lips in a bitter smile, Ellie mused that she probably should have realised that things weren't exactly perfect then... but at the time, she had been completely taken with the volatile half elf, and had forgiven him immediately. After all, it hadn't been the first time she had been left with a black eye by someone who purported to love her, and she had no doubt it would be the last.

Opening the second book, she flicked through a series of small, highly personal sketches before finding a clean page; opening the small box of charcoal sticks, she selected one that had been carved to a point and began to draw, taking solace in her own, considerable imagination. This was the only thing she wouldn't let Caelan touch - the one thing she kept from him - and therefore, over the last few weeks, it had become something of a haven for her; somewhere she could pour her heart out through the medium of charcoal and ink without having to say a word.

At first, she began to sketch out a seascape; thunderous clouds scudding above a wave-tossed boat, the foaming sea crashing all around it whilst lightning lanced down from the heavens, but the rogue soon found her attention sliding to the prisoner she was guarding once again, and soon found herself sketching out a single eye surrounded by pitch blackness and wondering once more exactly what it was he had done to warrant such treatment.

Murder, perhaps? It had to be really. Or maybe theft... some Lords valued possessions above life, after all – something she knew only too well, considering her own reasons for being in Cormyr rather than still living along the Sword Coast – and if he had stolen something of value that the Lord didn't want seized by the Purples, then it would explain the secrecy. Rape? Unlikely – although it was generally frowned upon to force yourself upon someone else, it was hardly treated as a hangable offence. Unless it had been a relative of the Lord in question, of course... a daughter, perhaps? A sister? Glancing back up at the door, Ellie set her charcoal down for a moment and cupped her chin in one soot-stained hand, leaving a black smear along the underside of her jaw.

_Murder... theft... rape... what else? Political reasons?_

At this thought, the rogue's stomach sank. If the tales were to be believed, the drow were as ruthless and sadistic in their politics as they were in everything else; the last thing she wanted – and, indeed, needed – was to get involved in something that led to political intrigue of any kind. Politics invariably led to authority figures, and they in turn inevitably led to the upholders of the law... and they were people Ellie had never particularly seen eye to eye with, and tended to do her best to avoid at any given time.

_Okay – if not for political reasons...why else would someone pay for a bounty – and a handsome bounty at that – for a one eyed drow male?_

_And what was he doing so far away from home to be wanted by anyone in this way in the first place?_

Frowning slightly, the rogue looked along the corridor for a second before glancing back up at the door, trying to squash down the urge to stand up, peer through the bars once again and ask this very question to its dark inhabitant. Shaking her head, she picked up her stick of charcoal once again, turned to a fresh page and began sketching once more, this time a detailed picture of a single flower, deliberately making herself concentrate upon something intricate to divert her mind from pondering the dark elf.

The activity diverted her attention for a good while until she realised one thing: all the petals she had lovingly rendered were a rich, deep black.

o0o

Feeling a rough nudge upon one shoulder, Ellie awoke with a jump and a slightly unladylike snort and blinked rapidly as she tried to focus upon the hulking figure hunkered down in front of her.

"Come on, lass... wake up an' be grateful it's me and not yer man comin' to wake ye," murmured a rough, deep voice.

Yawning mightily, the rogue stretched briefly and shifted her weight to try to relieve the numbness that had crept its way insidiously into her buttocks and lower back; feeling her extremities suddenly pop and fizz painfully as they fired back into life, she winced and hissed under her breath, cursing herself for falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position; although Ellie was rather good at entertaining herself in any given instance, even she had found her eyelids finally drooping after what seemed like an age of sitting outside the featureless oaken door to the point where she hadn't even realised she had fallen asleep.

Glancing guiltily up at the Bear, she struggled to her feet.

"Is everything all right?"

Bear shrugged his massive shoulders. "Yeah – any reason why it shouldn't be?"

Shaking her head to chase away the last, pink fuzziness of sleep from her mind, Ellie looked a little sheepish. "I was supposed to be on guard..."

The barbarian grinned. "Yeah... me too. Hard not to fall asleep down 'ere, though. Nowt to do. You should have 'eard the ear bending Caelan gave Bran – 'ee came down 'ere to find that damn fool wizard snorin' 'is 'ead off!"

The rogue grinned back. "Thank Mask for small mercies, aye?"

"Aye..."

Bear peered momentarily into the brig. "'Ee all right?"

Ellie shrugged. "I've not heard a peep out of him, to be honest," she answered quietly. "It's a bit creepy, actually... you look in, and all he does is watch you."

Ragnar's eyebrows rose a little. "'Ee watches you?" the barbarian's eyebrows then settled into a frown. "'Ee just faced the wall when I was lookin' in... no matter. We'll be shot of 'im soon enough." He looked back to Ellie. "Y'wanna go get yersel' sommat to eat? Mornin' now... I've 'ad sommat, and I know Caelan an' Bran were 'eadin' up on deck." The barbarian grinned evilly. "Since the wind picked up, Bran's been sick as a dog..."

Groaning, Ellie rubbed a hand over her face. "No... what is it with him? Stick him on a cart for more than half an hour and he's sick. I hope he's going to sleep away from us if he's going to spend his time heaving..."

"Heh, y'think Caelan'd let 'im in to where 'ee's sleepin' if 'ee's pukin' everywhere?" Bear grinned again. "Don't y'fret, lass." With that, the barbarian waved her away. "Off y'go, know. Go get yerself yer fill. It ain't much, but it's better than nowt."

Frowning up at the door, the rogue paused before leaving. "What about him? Should I fetch something for him?"

Laughing, Bear shook his head. "Swift, lass, yer too soft. 'Ee's a bloody prisoner - not a guest, me girl; Caelan'll sort out sommat for him given time. Right now, y'worry 'bout yerself, okay?" He then gave her an affectionate smile, which Ellie returned.

"Well... okay. If things get boring, I might be back later. See you."

"See y'in a bit, lass."

With that, the rogue gathered her books up, turned upon one heel and left.

o0o

After picking her way carefully back up the narrow stairs they had descended the night before, Ellie made her way to the more habitable parts of the schooner and found her other two comrades tucking into a frugal breakfast. Sitting herself opposite them, she helped herself to some flat bread, dried meat and an apple; after glancing around herself to make sure no one noticed her, she then filched an extra one and secreted it carefully up one sleeve as Caelan stood up and prepared to leave the table with a hunk of bread in one hand and a small pitcher of watered down beer in another.

Nodding graciously at his two companions, the half elf then left and made his way back down to their cabin – and ultimately, the brig – all the while whistling a bright tune under his breath.

Making his way carefully down the stairs, Caelan nodded briefly towards Bear, who was playing a round of Solitaire with a pack of dog-eared cards; nodding back, the barbarian said nothing as the assassin produced a pitted iron key from the inside pocket of the tunic he was was wearing and unlocked the door before entering the noisome depths of the makeshift prison. Taking a moment to allow his vision to adjust to the murk, he then closed the door behind him and turned back to regard the drow who was now sitting on the bench opposite, staring balefully at him.

In all honesty Caelan didn't care much what crimes the drow had committed; he had been told many conflicting things about the dark elf, but when it came down to it, he was nothing more to him than a sack of gold and jewels. That, however, didn't stop a cruel smile from curving his lips as he stepped forwards, the bread and beer in his hands.

"Good morning, sunshine," the assassin said quietly, his welcoming words diametrically opposing his sinister tone. "I hope you had a good night..."

Continuing to stare at him, the drow said nothing.

"So, we're keeping up the silent routine. are we?" Caelan continued to smile.

Again, the drow said nothing, just yawned a little pointedly and looked away.

Narrowing his eyes at this deliberate show of insolence, the assassin had to fight to keep his smile in place.

"I wouldn't be so dismissive of someone who has brought you breakfast..."

Still looking away, the dark elf leant back and hooked his manacled hands behind his head and once again remained silent.

Now feeling his temper rise, Caelan held out the jug of beer and tipped it slightly, letting its contents slowly trickle onto the floor.

"Oops..." he murmured, before allowing the bread to tumble from his hand and land in the soggy mess of beer and soiled straw. "Butter fingers..."

Sparing him nothing more than a bored glance, the drow sighed wearily.

Feeling something hot suddenly flare up within him at the lack of a reaction, the assassin strode furiously over to the the dark elf, raised a clenched fist and backhanded the other male heavily across the face, the single ring the half elf wore catching the prisoner upon one dark cheek, drawing blood.

Still the drow said nothing, his only concession toward this largely unprovoked attack being to unclench his own fists and glare menacingly back at Caelan as the half elf rubbed the back of his hand, nursing his now bruised finger where his ring was located.

Straightening himself up, the assassin stepped back, sneering at the prisoner. When it came down to it, he was not worth the time and effort; with this thought in mind, Caelan turned upon one heel and strode away, taking great care to rather pointedly grind the hunk of bread he had brought down to the drow under one boot heel as he left.

Watching him leave, the drow simply drew his legs up underneath himself and closed his eyes once again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Warning for adult content – not that it's particularly 'sexy'. Then again, it's not supposed to be... _

Chapter Three

Of all the questions Ellie would ask as a child, 'why' definitely dominated; not how, or what, or when, or who... just why.

Why was the sky blue? Why did old Thantos only have one leg? Why did she have to go to bed? Why was gold important? Every day, a new question; every day, something new learned, until her mother had rolled her eyes at her, clucked her tongue in annoyance and answered 'just because!', invariably chasing her away as a prospective customer began to eye up her wares.

And Ellie had loved her for it.

Rebecca Swift had been a hard woman, beaten into something that resembled tempered steel upon the anvil of life and Ellie was her only child – her first at the tender age of fifteen – and after giving birth, she had vowed never, ever do so again, and so went to any and all lengths she had to to keep herself from falling pregnant again.

Wandering down the narrow wooden corridor to once again take up her position by the door to the brig, the rogue threw her stolen apple up into the air and caught it again with a deft hand, her mind full of thoughts of her mother. She often thought of Rebecca; in her eyes, her mother was an indestructible force, something born not of another woman's womb, but of the very elements itself: all fiery red hair, flashing green eyes and a whirlwind of fury, steely determination and hardened bitterness.

Ellie remember the day she died like it was only yesterday. The rain tended to do that.

It had been the third day of the tenday, and it hadn't rained in weeks – even the streets of Luskan had been tamed for a while in the unbearable heat, and everything had suffered under an unseasonably hot sun. Some of the more pious inhabitants of the docks had seen it as a sign that the gods were judging them for their sinful ways; ironically, however, Rebecca's chosen profession had never been busier, and so it had come to pass that Ellie had been chased away from the single room they shared more often than not, left to her own devices along with the other gutter rats, spent most of her time clambering over the rocks that marked the edges of Luskan's harbour, fishing for non-existent crabs in its polluted waters.

It had been the rain – the first in what seemed an age – that had driven her back home in search of shelter.

At first, Ellie had thought the silence meant it was safe to come home; she had at a very early age learnt the realities of life – no such thing as coy allusions to and prudish denials of the more baser aspects of life for the young rogue in a household ruled by a whore who lived relentlessly in the real word – and the usual low grunts and the knocking of her mother's wooden framed bedpost against the damp-spotted plaster walls has always been a signal for her to stay away. However, when she had opened the door, an empty wooden bucket clutched in one fist, Ellie immediately knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.

They had said he was a young man; well to do and slumming it, possibly, and that he had a penchant for treating women like dirt, a little peccadillo that would never have been tolerated in the rather more refined circles he usually associated with. Due to this, he was a regular visitor to the dockside, where a few extra coins usually secured any and all your desires, no matter how base or depraved they might be. Rumour had it that he had turned violent after Rebecca had refused some undefined request, and that he had dashed her brains out upon the little iron stove where Ellie and her mother used to cook their frugal meals in a fit of temper at being denied. Ellie never learned the whole truth; all she knew was the sight of her mother's broken head and mangled face would stay with her forever.

Ironically, all of this had led her six years later to Caelan; six, long years of scrimping and saving, of ingratiating herself with the Luskan Nightknives until she could afford one of their assassins to pay that particular noble back in kind. It had cost her quite a lot, due to one of the more unsavoury stipulations she had insisted upon, but it had been worth it; she still had his shrivelled, now-leathery cock hidden in a small box under the floorboards back in the room she had shared for the first thirteen years of her life with her mother.

Revenge, as the sages were rather fond of saying, was definitely a dish best served cold.

Nodding to Caelan as the assassin looked up from the book he was reading, Ellie sat down in front of him, placing her ill gotten gains upon the floor beside her. Raising a sculpted brow, the half elf gave first the apple and then the rogue an appraising look, but said nothing; he was used to her little penchant for filching whatever came her way, and instead smiled as he set his book upon the floor.

"You're early," he commented, leaning back casually against the door frame.

"It's raining," the rogue answered, folding her legs underneath her. "That and I don't think I can stand listening to Bran being sick and Bear laughing at him any more." She screwed up her face in vaguely bored disgust. "The first few times, it was faintly amusing, but after an hour..."

Nodding sympathetically, Caelan shook his head and chuckled.

"How's it been?" she asked, cocking her head towards the door.

"Silent," the assassin replied, his boredom plain in his tone of voice.

Biting her thumbnail, Ellie paused for a long moment. "What did he do?" she eventually asked carefully after some internal debate.

Caelan shrugged. "Murdered some people related to one of the Westgate nobles, or some such tale; they're friends of Meren's, so he said he'd help track him down. They caught him just outside of Suzail, trying to sneak his way through Cormyr. We're guessing he was trying to join that drow enclave in Cormanthor... but no one knows for sure, considering he's kept quiet since he was captured."

"Oh."

Leaning forwards a little, the assassin glanced up the corridor towards the stairs before offering the rogue a sly look. "Bran's staying on deck, even though it's raining?"

"Yep – each time he tries to go down below, he gets worse, and no one wants to have to clean up after him," Ellie nodded.

"And Bear is staying with him?"

Again, the rogue nodded. "He is. He says it's so no one is tempted to tip Bran over the side for his whinging, but in reality, I think it's just so he can have a good giggle at his expense."

"I see... then it might be safe to say we have a short while to ourselves?"

Suddenly, Ellie's stomach dropped a little. "Caelan..."

"What?" the half elf asked, holding his hands up and feigning innocence. "No one's going to come down here-"

"Apart from the drow not a few feet away from us!" Ellie replied a little indignantly.

"Oh, come now – he's locked up. Anyway, he doesn't count..." With that, the half elf curled his legs up underneath himself and raised himself up on to his knees; leaning further forwards, he extended a hand and ran it lightly behind Ellie's head, all but forcing her to tilt her head back and accept his kiss.

Once upon a time, she would have felt a definite thrill at his desire for her as he kissed her deeply, guiding her backwards so that she was laying underneath him, the rough, wooden planks at her back... but now, no matter how hard she tried to engage with the moment, she simply felt a sense of inevitable resignation as the half elven assassin's hand crept up the inside of her rough spun tunic to cup one small breast. Closing her eyes, Ellie tried to focus upon the sensation of skin against skin, but as with before, she was finding it harder and harder to divorce the reality of her waning feelings from the physical, and even as he drew her tunic up and began to nuzzle her almost lovingly, she found herself retreating into a fantasy world where she did not have to face the fact that she was yet again going to make love to a man she quite possibly no longer loved.

It wasn't as if he took her against her will; she herself had needs as much as the next person, and once she had gotten over her initial sense of resigned indifference and was able to concentrate more upon the physical sensation of Caelan's mouth upon her breasts and his hand sneaking under the waist band of her breeches, his searching fingers sliding through her damp folds, testing her readiness, that she was able to relax, careful to make the right noises as he undid her laces and slipped her breeches from her hips, before sitting up slightly and inviting her to do the same to him.

Taking his cue, she smiled up at him, a gesture that she knew did not reach her eyes as she drew his eager member from its prison; wrapping her hand around his shaft, she stroked it a perfunctory manner whilst Caelan sighed, closed his eyes and grasped the back of her head, wordlessly indicating that he wished her to take him in her mouth. Trying to suppress a sigh of her own, the rogue obliged, but only for a short while before withdrawing and laying back; taking this as a sign of her desire to him, Caelan grinned, not realising that her actual intent was simply to get the whole act over and done with in as little time as possible.

Settling himself between her thighs, the half elf began his habitual murmuring in elven into her ear as she crooked her knees and allowed him to enter her; finding his rhythm quickly, the assassin drew his arms around Ellie's body and buried his face into her hair as she conscientiously bucked her hips to meet every single one of his thrusts. Slowly, the rogue settled back into her world of simple, physical sensation she finally achieved some vague sense of personal gratification until, as per usual, Caelan all too soon let out a strangled moan and drove himself into her one last time before shuddering and collapsing forwards, burying her beneath him.

Letting out a sigh, Ellie simply stared at the wooden ceiling above her and counted the knotholes until he was ready to withdraw, cringing inwardly as he whispered that he loved her... and hearing herself respond in kind whilst she debated exactly how she was going to end this shell of a relationship once and for all.

Sitting up, Caelan quickly re-laced himself and offered Ellie a lazy, satisfied smile as he watched her pull her breeches up, choosing to ignore the slightly disgusted look that crossed her face as she drew her fingers over herself in a vain attempt at cleaning herself up. Wiping a now sticky hand upon the planking beside her, she looked around; spotting some discarded canvas, stood up and made her way over the that, carefully cleaning her hands to the best of her ability of any trace of the assassin before sitting next to him again, whereby he pulled her back and settled her against his chest, resting his chin atop her head.

"When this is all over, we won't have to resort to snatching scant moments as we can," Caelan murmured into her hair, mistaking her silence for frustration and disappointment at their surroundings and situation. "We can lie upon silken pillows and stay there all day if we wish, with no one to disturb us." He then smiled and kissed the nape of her neck. "Wouldn't that be perfect?"

Closing her eyes, Ellie nodded resignedly.

_You have to tell him, _a small, nagging voice at the back of her mind piped up. _He loves you... it's not his fault you do not feel the same way. This is unfair!_

_Not until after pay day, though... _another, even more secret voice added. _Once you've been paid, take your share and slip away – even Caelan won't be able to find you if you're careful..._

Sighing to herself, the rogue drew her arms around herself and stared moodily at the opposite wall.

Together, they sat for a short while in silence, Caelan rubbing his cheek against the top of Ellie's head thinking of their future together whilst Ellie fought with herself over how she was to end it all until they heard the sound of heavy footsteps ahead; looking up, they both greeted Bear with a smile - Caelan's, annoyed; Ellie's, relieved - as the barbarian lumbered into view.

Taking in their rumpled casts, Bear leered a little, offering the assassin a little wink, which was met with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it, Ragnar?" he asked a little coldly.

"Ah, nuthin'... Captain wants to talk to ye, is all. Prob'ly just makin' sure everything is all right."

Nodding heavily, the assassin sighed and gave the top of Ellie's head one last kiss before he stood up, said his goodbyes and left with the barbarian in tow.

Waiting until she could no longer hear the sounds of their booted feet upon the planked floor, the rogue finally stretched out and leant up against the door jamb, feeling thoroughly wretched.

_Just how long do you think you can keep this pretence up? How long can you pretend that everything is fine? _

_And how long will it be before Caelan realises something is amiss?_

Contrary to apparent appearances, she did not want to hurt him; although she knew he was hardly the kindest man she had ever met, he did love her in his own way, and this is what made it all the harder. If he had just been using her, then she would have no compunction with regards to using him for the money before skipping off; it wouldn't be the first time she had done so, and there was no doubt in her mind that it would be the last. Things, however, had all changed the night they had lain together under a starry sky and the assassin – normally so cold and reserved – had held her in his arms and said those three little words that, ultimately, ruined their relationship forever.

I love you.

At first, she had thought him joking, but there had been no mistaking the sincerity in his pale blue eyes; if she was honest with herself, it was at that precise moment that she had been looking for a way out – a way to end it all without hurting him – but had in turn inadvertently ended up hurting herself.

Leaning forwards, the rogue stretched a hand out to grasp the apple she had stolen from the breakfast table so many hours before and regarded it closely, its polished, red-green skin all of a sudden looking supremely unappetising as she considered biting into it. Instead, she glanced at the door behind her and, making a snap decision, stood up.

Standing once again upon the balls of her feet, she peered into the darkened room, trying to locate the dark elf interred within. Hearing him shift his weight – and knowing that because she had heard him, he had done so knowingly – she watched as he stepped forwards, his form coalescing out of the very shadows to stand before her.

Suppressing the urge to step backwards as she regarded his darkly handsome – and, she couldn't help but notice, cut and scabbed – features, she smiled a little nervously as he watched her back once again, this time with a cold sense of malevolence.

"Uh... hello..." she began a little nervously, wishing fervently that she hadn't begun this course of action. "I was just wondering; have you eaten?"

Raising a silvery eyebrow, the drow's demeanour shifted slightly from callous to interested as he crossed his arms over his chest, his chain-linked manacles making what should have been a simple movement unnecessarily complicated, but remained silent.

Unsure as to what that meant exactly, Ellie risked sticking her arm a little way through the bars of the tiny window and presented him the apple. "If you want it, you can have this."

Watching him carefully, there was no mistaking the hungry way in which the drow's attention fixed upon her hand; stepping forward, further into the light he regarded her warily, but did not take the fruit.

Wincing a little as the metal grating that bordered the window began to cut into her underarm, Ellie gritted her teeth and threw the apple into the room; watching it arc through the stale air towards him, the dark elf snapped a hand out and caught it deftly before holding it up to his nose and sniffing it suspiciously; obviously deciding it wasn't poisonous, he then bit into it.

Withdrawing her arm, the rogue watched for a little while as the drow systematically devoured the fruit, core and all, licking the juices that escaped its ripe flesh with relish from his fingers before she turned away from the door.

"Bel'la dos, ussta jallil..."

Spinning back around, Ellie peered once again into the room to find the prisoner regarding her carefully.

"What did you say?"

The drow then moved even closer to the door, this time stepping fully into the thin strip of light that bathed the front half of his prison.

"I said 'bel'la dos'," he replied in an oddly accented yet melodious voice as he inclined his head graciously towards her, offering her a slow, roguish smile that left Ellie feeling a little flushed and just more than a little confused as to why that should be the case. "It means 'thank you'."

"Uh, you're... welcome," the rogue returned, all of a sudden unsure as to how she was going to continue.

Cocking his head to one side, the dark elf regarded her for a long moment before speaking again. "You seem nervous, jallil. Why is that?"

Shaking her head slightly, Ellie shrugged. "I'm not nervous-"

"The tremor in your voice says differently."

Swallowing hard, Ellie lifted her chin and shook her hair back in what she hoped was a display of superiority. "Why have you kept quiet until now?" she asked, deciding to answer his question with one of her own.

Hearing a small chuckle escape him, the drow stroked his lips for a moment with one ebon finger. "Simple; I have had no reason to speak. Why should I wish to speak with those who take me to be be executed?"

"So why do you speak now?"

Giving Ellie an amused look, the drow shrugged slightly. "Because I have manners?"

For a long while, the rogue and the dark elf just watched on another carefully, the creaking of the schooner and the distant cry of the men above the only sound to be heard.

"What did you do?" Ellie asked eventually, her voice soft.

"Does it matter?" the drow replied quietly. "Whatever happens, you're taking me to my doom."

At this answer, Ellie paused before speaking. "They say you murdered some people."

Quirking an eyebrow, the drow gave the rogue an amused yet calculating look back. "You said you loved him."

Suddenly, a fierce blush blossomed almost violently across Ellie's cheeks. "And exactly what do you mean by that?" she asked indignantly, seeking refuge from her embarrassment in anger.

Still looking amused, the dark elf smiled again. "Nothing. Just making the point that we all have our secrets."

"You'll rot in the Nine Hells for what you did, you know that?" she spat back, narrowing her eyes at him, trying to mask her discomfiture with cold fury.

"The Abyss, actually... but close enough," the drow smiled back, seemingly unfazed by her threat. He then stepped forwards and rested his elbows against the back of the door and looked out of the barred window, regarding her with interest with his one crimson eye. "What is your name?"

Stepping backwards, her heart suddenly thudding heavily in her chest, Ellie shook her head. "I'm not telling you that."

Smirking a little, he cocked his head to one side enquiringly again. "It's 'Ellie', isn't it?"

"No," the rogue replied quickly, feeling quite trapped despite the fact that the drow was the one currently locked up.

"I think it is... that is what the half elf calls you, any way." He watched her again with an almost predatory interest. "Do you know what he was saying to you as he mounted you?"

Feeling her cheeks burn once again, Ellie looked away, trying to suppress a gasp of mortification. "You... you..." She gestured to the floor with a disgusted look upon her face. "You _watched_?"

Chuckling, the drow shook his head. "Jabbress, I have witnessed many different displays of that nature in my time... believe me when I say that I had no desire to watch that half elf grunt and squirm his way to gratification upon your body; do not worry – your rather soiled sense of honour has not been jeopardised by me in any way. I merely heard his words and guessed their context... so I take it you do not know what he was saying to you?"

Still blushing furiously, Ellie shook her head, her curiosity piqued despite everything. "No. I... I don't speak elven."

Snorting a little in amusement, the prisoner grinned. "That's probably for the best. Forget I said anything."

"No - I want to know what he said!" Ellie replied hotly, instinctively taking a step towards the door once more. "Tell me!"

Shaking his head, the drow stepped backwards and into the murk of his prison once again, his mocking smile never once leaving his lips.

"Tell me!" Ellie repeated indignantly grasping the bars of the window. "Please?"

Stopping, the dark elf inclined his head towards her once again. "Ahh... and now we discover some manners." His smile finally slid from his face and was replaced by something rather more duplicitous as he regarded her through one narrowed eye. "Answer me one more question before I comply; what is it that has you so bothered by what he may or may not have said?"

Feeling a little defensive and looking a little confused, Ellie shook her head. "I... I don't know what you mean."

"The question is simple; I said that the half elf was murmuring something to you in elven and asked you if you knew what it was. By your reaction, you automatically assumed it was something negative... why is that?"

Looking away for a moment, the rogue crossed her arms defensively over her chest and retreated back a step once more. "I didn't... I never... I..." she stopped and closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep breath. "Just... tell me what he said. Please."

Once again, a sly, almost feline smile spread its way along the dark elf's lips before he spoke, his voice this time at a low purr. "He said that you feel like silk," he answered eventually, delighting in the rogue's discomfiture as her eyes widened a little in embarrassment.

"You're disgusting," Ellie whispered back, her face now set into an incredulous grimace. "Just... just... shut up. Shut up and don't speak to me."

Snorting in amusement, the drow then bowed low, his gaze never once leaving the rogue's face. "Assanque, Ilharess..." he replied obsequiously. "As you will, I shall endeavour to obey."

With that, he retreated back to the shadows, leaving Ellie to battle her blushes and calm her nerves upon her own, all the while feeling decidedly odd and wondering exactly why she had spoken to the drow in the first place.


End file.
